Chapter 31 Wren
Kael’s apartment feels impossibly warm the second we step inside—low lighting, soft shadows, the faint scent of coffee in the air. My body doesn’t know what to do with the quiet. It’s too much. Too safe. Too unfamiliar.
I hover near the entryway, coat half-off, breath stuck somewhere too high in my chest. Finn gently closes the door behind us, like he’s afraid a loud sound will make me bolt.
Kael steps past me and turns on a single lamp, warm gold pooling across the living room. “You can take the bed,” he says, voice calm but soft enough I hear the effort behind it. “We’ll stay close.”
My stomach flips. Not fear. Something else.
Atlas glances down the hallway. “Which door?”
“Left,” Kael says.
Finn looks at me. “You ready?”
No. Yes. I don’t know.
I nod anyway.
Finn guides me first. Not touching—just walking near enough that I feel the warmth of him at my back. Kael leads, slow enough that I don’t trip over my own nerves. Atlas brings up the rear like a wall that learned how to breathe.
Kael pushes open the bedroom door and steps aside so I can enter first.
The room is neat. Clean lines. Dark gray bedding. One soft lamp. Zero clutter. It smells like him—sharp, clean, a hint of something earthy that makes my pulse slip all over the place.
“You can change if you want.” Kael opens a drawer and pulls out a folded black t-shirt. “This should fit.”
Fit is a generous word. It’ll hang on me like a dress.
My cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
He sets it at the foot of the bed and steps back, but his eyes stay on me, steady and unreadable. “Do you need anything before you sleep?”
I want to say no. I want to be low-maintenance, easy, simple.
But my throat tightens instead.
“I... don’t want the door closed.”
Kael nods immediately. “It stays open.”
Finn adds, “And we’re staying.”
Atlas just stands there, arms crossed, jaw tight, and says, “No one’s leaving you.”
My chest stutters.
I take the shirt and slip into the bathroom to change. My fingers shake so hard I almost drop it twice. When I pull it on, the fabric falls to mid-thigh, soft and warm, smelling like Kael’s laundry soap.
When I step back into the bedroom, all three of them look at me at once.
It’s not sexual.
It’s not possessive.
It’s something heavier. More reverent.
Like they’re making sure I’m real.
Kael clears his throat and moves to the side of the bed. “Lie down. We’ll stay until you’re asleep.”
I swallow hard. “You don’t have to—”
“We want to,” Finn says gently.
Atlas doesn’t say anything. His eyes say enough.
I climb onto the bed and pull the blanket over myself, feeling small and oddly exposed even though not a single bit of skin shows beneath the fabric. The mattress dips slightly as I settle into the center.
Kael sits on the edge beside me, one knee on the bed, one foot planted on the floor. He doesn’t touch me. He simply waits, letting me choose.
I take his hand first.
I don’t plan to. My body just does it, reaching for him without my permission. His fingers fold around mine, large and warm.
A breath escapes me in a shaky rush.
“It’s okay,” Kael murmurs. “You’re okay.”
Finn moves next. He climbs onto the other side and sits cross-legged facing me, one hand resting near my thigh, palm up. Not touching unless I ask. But inviting.
I slide my free hand into his.
His thumb brushes my knuckles once—barely there, but enough to make heat coil low in my stomach.
Atlas hesitates the longest.
He stands at the foot of the bed, breathing like he’s trying to keep himself contained. His eyes meet mine and hold.
“Can I...” He stops, clears his throat. “Can I sit with you?”
My heart clenches. “Please.”
He exhales like he wasn’t sure I’d say yes. Then he steps forward and sits carefully by my feet, back against the wall, legs stretched long beside the bed. He looks like a silent sentinel—massive, warm, protective.
The room goes quiet.
Not heavy.
Not tense.
Different.
Like the air is thick with things none of us have words for yet.
Kael strokes his thumb over the back of my hand once, slow, gentle, grounding. “You’re safe.”
Finn shifts closer, his knee brushing the blanket near my hip. “We’re right here. We’re not going anywhere.”
Atlas rests one hand lightly on the blanket near my ankle. Not touching me—just making sure I feel him there. “Sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”
My eyes sting. I blink fast. “Thank you.”
Finn’s voice softens even more. “You don’t have to thank us for caring.”
My breath hits a snag. “I’m not used to—”
“I know,” Kael says.
He doesn’t say how. He doesn’t push. He just squeezes my hand gently and waits for me to breathe again.
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s warm. Full. Charged.
Sexual tension simmers under the softness—not demanding, not rushed. Just humming there, an electric awareness that has all three of them leaning ever so slightly closer.
Kael’s thumb keeps brushing mine, slow strokes that heat my skin.
Finn’s knee presses lightly against my thigh through the blanket, warm enough to make my breath hitch.
Atlas’s fingers twitch near my ankle like he’s resisting the urge to touch more, to shift closer, to gather me under the shelter of his body.
I shouldn’t want this.
Not now.
Not like this.
But God, I do.
I feel safe.
Protected.
Wanted in a way that doesn’t ask for anything in return.
I close my eyes for a moment, but the awareness of all three of them sharpens everything else—their breathing, their body heat, the weight of their attention.
“You’re still tense,” Finn whispers, leaning closer.
“I’m trying,” I breathe.
Kael moves his hand to my shoulder, slow enough that I can stop him. I don’t. The warmth of his palm sinks through the fabric, spreading calm through me.
“Try with us,” he says softly.
His fingers sweep down my arm in a long, careful line.
Finn mirrors the motion on my other arm, fingertips skimming from my elbow up toward my wrist. Gentle. Comforting. But the intimacy of it is undeniable. My breath shivers.
Atlas shifts slowly, placing one massive hand at the foot of the bed near my shin. A silent question.
I nod.
He moves his hand up, settles it lightly over my calf through the blanket.
A sound escapes me—quiet, involuntary. Not fear. Not panic.
Need.
Atlas’s breath catches. Finn’s eyes darken. Kael’s hand pauses mid-stroke before continuing slower, softer.
“You okay?” Kael murmurs, voice deeper than before.
“Yes.” My voice is a whisper. “I just—”
I don’t finish.
I don’t have to.
Finn leans in, his forehead brushing mine for a second, feather-light. “We’ve got you, Wren.”
Atlas presses a little firmer against my leg, heat burning through the blanket. “Sleep,” he says again, but the word comes out like a promise and a warning and something I feel everywhere.
Kael shifts closer, his thigh brushing the side of my hip through the mattress. “We’ll stay until you’re out.”
“You always do,” I whisper.
“We always will,” Finn answers, no hesitation.
The tension builds—hotter, heavier, tender and terrifying.
I breathe them in.
Kael’s hand rubbing slow circles on my arm.
Finn’s thigh touching mine, steady and warm.
Atlas’s hand on my leg, protective and claiming without crossing a single line.
I don’t know how long I stay awake.
Minutes.
Hours.
A lifetime.
Eventually my breathing evens. Their hands stay on me. Their bodies stay close.
Kael rests his forehead lightly against the top of my head.
Finn’s fingers stroke my wrist until the tension drains out of me.
Atlas stays at my feet, unmoving, vigilant, as if daring the world to try me again.
Before I fall asleep, I whisper into the dark, “I’m not scared when you’re here.”
Kael hums softly—approval.
Finn smiles against my cheek.
Atlas’s hand tightens gently on my leg.
“We know,” Kael murmurs.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Finn adds.
“Not tonight,” Atlas finishes. “Not ever.”
And with all three of them wrapped around me like a living shield, I finally—finally—fall asleep.